Flashing Lights
by Houseandwilson18
Summary: Wilson/Amber. Amber suspects that Wilson is cheating on her and her sinister side is revealed after she seeks revenge. Will lead to House/Wilson.
1. Chapter 1

Flashing Lights

I got this bizarre and strange idea from watching Kanye West's Flashing Lights music video. Warning: this contains graphic violence and content not suitable for minors. (I've always wanted to write a suspense story) Now my style of story starts in the middle and tends to jump around in the timeline.

May 4th, 2008 3:45 AM

Weakly grasping the grayish brown tree root with his bruised and blood stained hand, Wilson boosted himself onto the hard dirt floor of the quiet forest. The short but steep climb up the stone and root covered hill felt incredibly treacherous to Wilson, who felt the sharp pain in his body every time he exhaled from his multiple stab wounds. His usually spotless and impeccable pressed khaki suit accompanied with a ruby red tie had wet mud stains and large holes in an unorganized pattern on his slacks, while his white dress shirt was practically drenched in his own blood and sweat. There were five jagged knife penetrations in Wilson's chest; all of them which barely missed his wildly beating heart. Out of pure adrenaline, Wilson somehow made the half mile track from the location that he was attacked to a destination closer to the hope of obtaining help.

Panting loudly, he unsteadily rose to his feet, hoping that he could muster enough strength to walk through the dark woods, reach a road that many drivers would use, and find someone willing to overlook his disheveled appearance and call 911. But, he was overly ambitious as the throbbing pain in his abdomen became unbearable and the powerful hold of exhaustion overtook him. His view of the seemingly endless trees grew blurry as he pressed his now ruined shirt against the deepest wound. In only 30 seconds, Wilson lost consciousness, leaving his body limp and sprawled out on the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

May 4th 2008 4:15 am

May 4th 2008 4:15 am

(Meanwhile at a local 7-11 convenience store)

Max Calvin was a relatively tall middle-aged man with a broad captivating smile and endearing dimples. He was wearing a maroon three-quarter length top and dark-washed jeans and his 2005 tan Chevrolet Malibu was parked only 2 parking spots away from the entrance of the 7-11.

If the common everyday person were asked if this particular man appeared to be threatening, they would casually reply "no". They would probably reply that he looked exactly like one of their neighbors or co-workers that they encountered on a daily basis.

This was the brilliant strategy that Max used, which prevented him from undergoing numerous droning interrogations. This would then lead to his persecution, and perhaps receiving a twenty year sentence in prison and several years of parole.

That would have not been acceptable to Max. No way in hell was he going to allow himself to be punished by the idiotic, and in some instances, lax legal system that failed consistently.

Max earned a Bachelor's and Master's degree from the prestigious Princeton University and was viewed as an accomplished accountant. Over time, his determination and hard work led to the rapid growth of the website. Eventually, his boss became very impressed with his performance and promoted him to the position of vice-president.

He frequently oversaw the profits and losses of over 100 companies, and somehow came up with brilliant solutions to these businesses' problems.

The main benefit that he received from being the "upper-hand" man of this firm was that he could seamlessly pull strings for valuable companies. He found ways to cut costs by allowing them to fire employees they felt weren't vital to increasing their profits.

Also, he suggested that they should gradually increase the monthly cost of their Aetna or Blue Cross health programs without receiving immediate negative feedback from their employees, which they required their workers to be members.

After all, America's economy was undergoing a stifling recession and the rise of inflation certainly wasn't shocking news to anyone.

Max was a very content man in 1999. This was when new jobs were being made and the businesses began to boom, and he could steal 5,000 here and there from various companies without making a visible dent in their profits.

Unfortunately for Max, living an upscale lifestyle was becoming less obtainable over the time-span of 9 recent tumultuous years.

Beforehand, he was able to live in a majestic 2 story stark white mansion with black shutters and a bright red door that fit in nicely in the bustling family suburban town of Mercer county. But, over the course of 3 years, taking out a home equity loan and refinancing his nearly 2 million dollar mansion down to 1.5 million wasn't making ends meet any more.

His energy bill, including his air conditioning and heating, began to sky rocket. Eventually, he was forced to downsize to a midsized beige white home with dark brown shudders surrounding the four windows, with a basic but large 2 car garage.

Unfortunately, the other adjustment he had to make during the decline of the economy was trading in his beloved midnight blue 2007 Buick that had black interior leather seats and a GPS system.

It wasn't that Max minded living a modest lifestyle, but he had made several deals with important businessmen that kept his hoarding of money a secret.

If he failed to pay David Gordon, an associate of , a sum of 10 million in 5 payments of 2 million dollars smoothed down in suitcases, he would receive severe physical harm.

For a few months, Max was somewhat relieved that he could blend in with the rest of the struggling members of society, but he was finding it more difficult to come up with the last 2 million that he owed Gordon.

Recently, he was resorting to scraping mere tax refund checks to pay his basic necessities.

Usually, Max tended not to go after lowly establishments but the owner of this local 7-11 was receiving weekly deposits of 500,000 for hiding a massive amount of illicit drugs in the basement of their tightly secured storage building.

It could be reached in 30 minutes if the traffic was light during rush hour. He was only aware of his name, Adam Brant and that he and the local drug dealers had a secure contract that would guarantee that he would receive at least 30 percent of their impressive earnings.

These figures blew Max's mind considering that their 100 percent pure cocaine that they received from Vietnam cost a cool 150 dollars per pound.

Max sighed loudly, as he rested his head against the headrest, dreading the unthinkable possibility of failure. "This place is definitely beneath me" Max thought to himself as he tucked a worn black ski mask with a poorly cut face in the front, into his left jeans' pocket.

But the gory image of his dead, limp body beheaded and covered in blood flashed through his mind and all of his doubts quickly disappeared.

As he slid his Beretta pistol, which he recently filled with bullets, into his briefcase, Max wickedly grinned and opened his car door, stood up and casually entered the convenience store.

When he saw a harmless gawky 18 year old teenage boy stock the shelves, Max knew that the money he so desperately needed was his.


End file.
